ce sorely missed Rusha, her diligent little helper, and latterly
her companion too; and the lack of Emlyn's merry tongue made all around
seem silent and tedious. Steadfast especially missed the girl. Perhaps
it was due to the King's gibes that her absence fully opened to him the
fact that he knew not how to do without her. After his usual fashion,
he kept the discovery to himself, not even talking to Patience about it,
being very shamefaced at the mere thought, which gave a delicious warmth
to his heart, though it made him revolve schemes of saving up till he
had a sufficient sum, with which to go to the squire and propose to meet
him half-way in rebuilding the old house; not such an expensive matter
as it would be in these days. There, in full view of all that passed
down Elmwood Lane, Emlyn could not complain of solitude, he thought! But
there was this difficulty in the way, that Jephthah had never resigned
his claims as eldest son, and might come home at any time, and take
possession of all the little farm at which Steadfast had worked for
seven years.

The war was over, and nothing had been heard of Jeph, except the
king's apocryphal history, since his visit after the taking of Bristol.
Patience had begun to call him "poor Jeph," and thought he must have
been killed, but Stead had ascertained that the army had not been
disbanded, and believed him still to be employed.

At length, one market day, Mrs. Lightfoot told him, "There has been
one asking for you, Kenton, Seth Coleman, the loriner's son, that went
soldiering when your brother did. He landed last week from Ireland with
a wooden leg, and said he, 'Where shall I come to the speech of one
Steadfast Kenton? I have a greeting from his brother, the peculiarly
favoured,' or some such word, 'Jephthah Kenton, who told me I should
hear tidings of him from Mrs. Bakester Lightfoot, at the sign of the
"Wheatsheaf."' I told him where you abode, and he said he knew as much
from your brother, but he could not be tramping out to Elmwood on a
wooden leg. So says I 'I will send Steadfast Kenton to you next market
day.' You will find him at the sign at the 'Golden Bridle,' by the Wharf
Stairs."

Stead had no sooner disposed of his wares than he went in search of
the loriner's shop, really one for horse furniture. There was a bench
outside, looking out on the wharf and shipping, and on it was seated
the returned soldier, with a little party round him, to whom he was
expounding